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Instead, our usage of the word “taste” here is indexed four or five lines down in your standard dictionary; it is the “taste” that implies one’s perception of and enjoyment with something, and in our case, that something is art, entertainment, and popular culture.

First things first—it is true that all of us are young writers, with writing backgrounds. Some of us write fiction. Some of us write poetry. Some of us write plays, and screenplays. Some of us write freelance for newspapers. Some of us write for other, more established arts and entertainment blogs. Some of us write music, some of us write sketch comedy. Some of us write fan letters to Jack Nicholson.

But it’s arguably more important that, before we write, we watch, listen, and read.

In fact, for many of us, it was our early appreciation of what others had written—granted, apart from the consciousness that these things had to be written at all—that got us into writing ourselves. I mean, a kid just knows that The Lion King is a good movie before he gains the knowledge that (holy shit!) people actually created it.

So, sure, “a way with words” is a phrase that flatters, but to mindlessly assign it is to ultimately count out that Greeky kind of truth we feel when watching our favorite movie, hearing our favorite song, or reading our favorite book.

Even grown adults who don’t consider themselves writers or artists (whose asshole neighbors might even deem them boring, or plain) still find the time to appreciate, at least primitively, “products of entertainment.” And really, isn’t that just awesome?

The point is, everyone is entertained by something. It just so happens that we here at The Taste Basket are so manically invested in the emotional outcome of a “good” or “bad” movie, album, novel, play, TV show, what have you—that we find the time to write about it. In turn, what we produce is offered to you, Internet dweller, for your own interpretation, and cyclically, for your own entertainment.

You don’t need to be some pretentious, art-moving, film school, napkin-poet drug addict to read us. The Taste Basket is formally informal, it’s politely rude, it’s any other oxymoron you can think of that makes you giggle (or at least kind of tingle, in some way—we hope).